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ARTICLE : SIX MUSKETEERS

 

SIX MUSKETEERS

 

LT COL NOEL ELLIS

 

01/XII/2021

 

 

One had the privilege to meet half a dozen happy children recently. They were happy not because they were children of the rich but they were more than happy because they were street children living on construction sites. They were children of labourers living under the open sky. They played and frolicked on the road from dawn, till their mothers gave them a whack to get back to their make shift plastic sheet shelters.

 

A polythene bag would become a toy as they would tie a string and run along the road. They would fly it like a kite. Five contenders and one makeshift kite was not sufficient. Two naughty ones would break off from the group and pick up ‘Bajri’ used as construction material. All of them would gang up and bring that plastic bag down.

 

A competition would start and the winner would be the one who would land his stone in the ‘poly bag kite’. Then there would be a fight. Abuses, boxes, kicks would start the fireworks till someone would bring some method in the madness and decide to get polyethene bags for all. Polythene is strewn around in every colony all over.

 

One game would get over then the second would begin. This time it would be making a ‘fort’. With no dearth of stones, they would make a ‘Killa’. If you have a fort you had to go to war. The same stones would become missiles, till someone would be hit. A scream would attract the attention of parents. Within minutes things would settle and a new game was invented.

 

How could the child who got hurt stay away from the new game? It would be time to pick up sticks lying in the fire wood pile. Within no time that stack would be scattered all over. Someone riding a longish branch like a witch, someone making a sword, someone trying to aim at the cow dung lying on the road. Change of game, sticks and stones would be flung at the dung splattering it around. A driving hazard for motorcycle riders.

 

The cutest of them all was about two years old. She could throw tantrums. Her very loving and caring brother would be her shield from the other ruffians who kept pulling her hair. The elder brother who would keep pulling his mucked pants up to cover his vitals would carry her on his waist.

 

With the winters setting in she wore a pull over and a woollen cap smeared in grime. No clothing below the waist. Running nose, dripping out of one nostril making bubbles. One suck and all would return the same length it came down. Cracked cheeks but her spirit was unbeatable.

 

This being wedding season; down our lane the road was blocked with a tent which we Indians do as a birth right. One vacant plot became the make shift cook house for the ‘Kandoi’ or Chef. The ‘six-man’ army got on the trot. From where they created improvised brooms was amazing. Kikkar branches were used and everything was swept clean for poori-sabzi given to them in return. A feast of kinds.

 

The day the groom sat on the ‘mare’ there were two parties dancing. One was in front, obviously the relatives and one behind, our six musketeers. Not a beat was missed, every step was in sync. The kids actually enjoyed the music system deployed for the wedding. They would gather behind the wall and choreograph their moves and danced as if there was no tomorrow.

 

The coins tossed over the groom’s head would create controversies as there could be multiple claimants to one. Then the band would start again and all animosity was lost in the din of tunes played on the clarinets and drums. Family members would shoo them away. They would dart full speed till they thought they were relatively safe and then tip toe back and join the fun.

 

Their parents oblivious where they were as they were busy on a construction site. Kids looked after themselves, for those three days of the wedding. Finally, the tents were wound up, they got back to their own antics. Rahul, Deepak, Praveen, Kishan and Vikram were the boys and the darling of the lot was ‘Choti’. Kaain naam hai isro, I asked the boys? All of them just kept giggling. I bent down to ask her, she got scared and ran away to a safe distance.

 

Chirpy, giggling, laughing, fighting, bubbly, vivacious, chattering nonstop till they finally hit the sack was their routine. Though God had not provided them with everything, he gave them a reason to be happy. God Bless them always. ‘Six Musketeers’ is a nice name. Isn’t it? I wonder!!!!!!!!!!

 

 JAI HIND

© NOEL ELLIS

 

 





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